Into the Afterlife
by Toast and Stitch
Summary: In which, in the Afterlife, Harry runs into Snape at King's Cross and attempts to bring him back to the world of the living. Not quite as easy it looks. Life can be strange; the Afterlife even more so.


Into the Afterlife

 _Mother said "Straight ahead, Not to delay or be misled..."_

Dumbledore had vanished from King's Cross, leaving Harry alone to consider whether he wanted to return to the world of the living, back to fight Voldemort for the last time, to win, to move on. Dumbledore'd said Harry's part was over, that he could move on to death and enjoy the 'next great adventure,' that no one would blame him. It was his decision. It was too big of a decision.

Harry turned toward an oncoming train, recognizing one of the passengers watching out the window. The rest of the crowd seemed to move about excitedly, while Snape stared blindly out the window, frowning, but not quite seeing.

Without thinking Harry ran for the train, watched the doors open and went for the back, locating the man. The people moved out of his way and went back to chattering, but Harry took no notice of them.

Severus Snape jolted upward at the sight of Harry. One in his robes, but no trace of blood or fight. "You didn't make it?" he asked, looking crestfallen.

Harry crouched on the seat in front of him. Seeing him, a million questions had crowded his consciousness. He shook his head, in both an attempt to be rid of them and in response. Harry then tried gesturing toward the window to explain why he was there but Dumbledore was gone. "I have to decide," Harry managed to say. "He killed me, Voldemort killed me, but he killed the part of me that was him. My part is done and I can go back if I want. Where are you going?"

"I guess it doesn't matter," he responded.

"Do you want to go back?" Harry asked. He felt the hum of the train begin, yet it stayed as if waiting for their decision. His eyes searched Snape's.

"I don't think I have a choice," he said slowly.

"Well, you're here, aren't you?" Harry pressed. He wasn't sure either how everything worked in the Afterlife or whatever, but he knew that he could go back and surely Dumbledore could go back, and if they could, then why couldn't Snape? "C'mon!"

Together they sprung from their seats as the train rumbled to life, raced down its narrow hallway and jumped through the open door onto deep, deep green meadow.

"Now what?" Snape asked, as the entire train station had fallen apart. From miles around there was only greenery, flowers, and rolling hills. Harry's heart sank. It had seemed so easy before. Dumbledore made it sound like if he closed his eyes again, he'd be back in his body.

"You've been gone longer than I have," Harry responded a little sullen. "Why did everything change?"

Snape's face went purple, which seemed pretty impressive when he looked totally pale on the train. "You mean you have no bloody clue what we're doing?"

Harry rolled his eyes and brushed his pants off, which didn't seem all that necessary. "How about we try walking?" In the back of Harry's mind, he began to wonder if there really was a way to go back. If so, was this all the afterlife amounted to? Not that it wasn't nice and all, but it seemed like it could be boring, unless a window could open up in the sky or something and they could watch what was going on at Hogwarts.

Snape stopped abruptly. Ahead was a red-haired girl with a sundress, a flower in her small hands that she rose to Snape and smiled. Harry recognized her at once, exactly as his mother had looked in Snape's memories. No part of Harry sensed danger – like how, in the movies Dudley would watch the sweet girls would twist up in a horrific scream and . Instead, she glanced at Harry and sniffed haughtily. The hell? Lily led Snape toward a blanket of flowers and was talking excitedly.

Harry scanned the area and saw another girl peeking from a nearby tree; his mother's sister, his aunt. Her usually tightly woven dark hair had only a ribbon to keep it out her eyes. She, too, had a dress, but it seemed much more like a uniform than something comfortable. He strode toward her. She started, glancing quickly at him, before retraining her sharp eye on her sister.

"I don't trust Severus," she explained shortly. "But who are you?"

Was she a memory? A phantom? As far as Harry knew, there was no reason the real Petunia Dursley was dead. He shrugged indifferently. "He's my brother," he lied. "Who are you?"

She ignored him, clutching the bark of the tree tighter. "He's going to get her killed." She sighed. "She doesn't listen, but he's going to get her killed." To Harry's surprise, she stepped away from her tree and called to her sister. "HE'S GOING TO GET YOU KILLED!"

Snape's head swiveled around quickly. He had to miss Lily's wrinkled nose, but not her defiant laugh. "YOU'RE BEING STUPID, PETUNIA!"

Petunia went after them, her fists clenched in her dress. Harry followed them, feeling very much like he was in a Pensieve. "You're the one being stupid," she hissed when they were closer. "He knows, too" she announced, jerking a thumb to Harry. "You're going to die."

For the second time, Lily snubbed her son. His very presence made her scoff. This time she grabbed Snape's hands. " _I_ like him. And Sevy wouldn't hurt me!"

Harry saw the pain in his former professor's face. He remembered the way he cradled her body when- when she died. He remembered the way he begged for Dumbledore to help him, and remembered the look on Snape's face when Dumbledore said there was nothing to be done. It was the same, tortured face.

"I will hurt you," Snape cut in, trying to undo her hands from his and confirming her fears "I will not mean to, but I will do it nevertheless. I regret it."

Her freckled face twisted up, but instead of growing glowing teeths and sharp teeth, she covered her face and cried. She sat on the ground and cried and cried streams of hot tears, the visible part of her skin growing red.

And his aunt looked so self-righteous, so self-satisified that Harry looked her dead in the eye and told her. "You will hurt me. When she dies, you'll hurt me more than he hurts her." The little girl stared at him, the wind whistled hard and she became the tight-lipped woman Harry knew her as.

"What are you staring at me for?" she said, reaching for him, to hit him. He shoved her aside but she grabbed his wrist. From the corner of Harry's eye, he saw they were in the Dursley home, the kitchen, and Snape was trying to rise from the table, but his uncle stepped up, intercepted and led him toward the living room. "He's very disturbed," Vernon informed him, steering to a room of many guests who were talking, laughing and clinking glasses. Vernon was just as large and stupid as ever, wearing one of his enormous suits and moving around the crowd of people.

"LET ME GO!" he shouted. She tried to slap him.

"Why did you leave your room?" she was asking him as Harry heard his uncle explain he was "Petunia's sister's, very unfortunate." Harry yanked away. He'd promised never to set foot anywhere near this house, with its stupid flower wallpaper and stupid precious china his mother should have had,so why the hell did he have to be here?

"Let me take him," Snape told his uncle, his voice carrying over the murmur. The wind picked up all over again, Harry finally able to retch free from his aunt.

"Let me give the boy a suitable home," Snape said, speaking to his aunt and uncle. Harry felt something run into him, a small bundle. No, himself, as a toddler. Dudley was in the middle of the living room, alternating between staring at the television and smashing his toy dinosaurs together. Toddler Harry didn't have glasses, but a blue onesie and a tight grip on Harry's legs. Pushing past the weirdness of it all, Harry bent down and picked up the toddler, cradling him close, himself as he was never held. The little warm bundle settled against his neck and held onto him tightly.

" _You_?" Petunia laughed at Snape. "So you can feel better about killing his parents?"

"I'm afraid he stays," Vernon added, backing up his wife.

Harry frowned, pulling the toddler into a tighter embrace. "You don't want him," Harry said tightly. Toddler Dudley turned to stare at him. Snape seemed to realize Harry was there, and that he was looking at two different Harrys. He straightened his chin and stood at Harry's side.

"What do you know about children?" Petunia laughed.

"I know you don't beat them or starve them," Harry said, wishing he could cover the child's ears, wishing he really could rewrite his entire past and, if somehow, he could raise him now, away from these people. He was shaking and Snape was staring between them, then behind at the cupboard beneath the stairs. He pushed the tiny door and Harry saw what must have been his makeshift bed.

"You _discipline_ them," Vernon said. "Two men wouldn't understand that."

"Do you even recognize me?" Harry burst. The bundle in his arms seemed startled, so Harry bounced him, softening his glare from the Dursleys to the child in his arms.

"Turned out all right, didn't you?" the woman scoffed.

"All right?!" he cried out. "How-"

Snape touched his shoulder, then embraced him, the wind picked up and they were back, sprawled out at the meadow, the child gone from his arms so that he was now holding emptiness.

"Why did you do that?" Harry nearly shrieked. "We could have taken him!"

"It's already happened," he replied, sounding strained. His arm was still bound across Harry's chest. Could you cry in this world?

"We're living in the past," Snape said. Harry turned toward him, saw him close up. His eyes were closed, so Harry felt like it might be alright to look at him, to see the bends of his nose, his pale lips, the stubble on his cheeks. Maybe it was a good sign there was a glow to his cheeks.

"I believe, however, we are controlling this environment," he continued, his eyes snapping open. Harry had never seen pupils as black as his, but they looked kind. Well, pitying. Decisively that arm around Harry pulled him closer. They could feel the warmth of each other, this couldn't be death. Besides, Snape hadn't taken the train. Neither of them had.

"Do you think this is a place in between?" Harry asked.

"Perhaps."

Harry sucked in his breath. He tried to think, but was distracted. He really was never held, not in the way Snape was holding him now. Sirius had embraced Harry when he could, and so did Mrs. Weasley – every chance he got. Ron, too embarrassed usually, had given a quick hug before he went into the forest and there had been a few hugs with Hermione. This one felt different. This was Snape, this was lying down, and his arm hadn't moved. It was just... _there._

Harry felt something warm in his chest. He smiled and closed his eyes. If they could think about the bad things, then they could think of the good things. The wind picked up and carried them up in the sky. Harry squeezed the broom handle with both hands and urged it to swerve higher, faster. Snape was beside him, smiling. Maybe this was something worth doing for an eternity, to fly a broomstick anywhere and everywhere and never have to come down or eat or sleep. Maybe...

The earth titled and Harry was back on his feet, in a dim room. His professor, shirtless, straddling someone Harry had never seen before, a dirty blond man, panting. Snape's hips moved forward, his head dipped – Harry coughed to announce his presence – and found himself staring at the professor, himself the one crotch-to-crotch to the man. His lower half jumped, flushed at the contact. He felt a tickle below his belly-button.

Snape cupped his cheek and was chuckling, then stepping away. "Flying makes me horny," he said by way of explanation. He ran a hand through his hair. "We should probably be careful about what we're thinking of." He had probably meant to make it seem more a command, but his voice was kind of weird. A good weird.

"Yeah," Harry replied.

Then Snape's dark eyes grazed Harry's form and he squirmed a little, wishing almost he'd crawl back on top of him. Instead, Harry stuck his tongue out and made a face. Snape laughed and started walking around the room.

They were in a library, with Snape's fingers stroking the the bindings of ever leather bound book as he walked past. They all looked old, similar to the school library, but Harry had a hard time reading the titles. Snape then removed a title and flipped through the pages humming softly. Harry found himself liking this version of Snape. A lot. Or maybe he understood him better? Someone who was angry and full of guilt, but laughed in a way Harry had never heard before. Someone that had been friends with his mother, and cared nearly as much as Harry that she was gone.

"I wonder if we're supposed to face our past," Harry said outloud. And then what?

"Mm," he replied, absently. "It's funny that I can read this book. I don't think I'm remembering every page, but that it is really here. Exactly where it should have been." Harry watched him flip through a few other pages.

"I don't want to leave," Harry confessed suddenly. Snape's eyes met his over the book. "Not when we're nice to each other, not when we can _leave_ from people we don't like and we don't worry about anything."

"You wish to stay here with me?"

"Well, yeah, sure. I don't want to be myself."

Snape returned the book slowly.

"And I think you're all right."

Snape smiled weakily. "Harry, I'm beginning to think I cannot go back. Even if I do, my body won't be there for me. However, you were given the option to return to your body, to go on to make good memories, and, then, when it's time, you'll be here." He glanced again at the books. "I suppose for as long as you want. And then there's the train, the rest of the adventure." He took a deep breath. "It might not be so bad."

Harry sighed. He thought about his own body, lying in the forest. He thought about Voldemort, about the rest of his friends. Maybe if he stayed too long, there wouldn't be an option anymore about going back.

He sighed again.

Snape embraced him and it felt really damn good. His fingers ran through his hair, soothed his scalp. Really damn good.

"I'm sorry about everything," Snape said finally. "I hadn't known..."

Harry shook his head against his bare chest. "It's the past. You couldn't change it. Thanks for trying." Harry returned the embrace. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Sure." He squeezed him once. "I'll wait for you here. All right?"

Harry nodded. He thought about how his parents had already moved on. Sirius had moved on and Remus and Tonks and Mad Eye, and sure it would nice to walk with someone. He tipped his head back and kissed the other man, sweet, lingering, and slow.

It was the last thing he remembered, though the rest was a blur. Harry wasn't entirely sure what made him kiss Severus Snape, but he figured it had something to do with the same reason that despite how awful he thought Snape was, he ran to him at the Shrieking Shack and held him while he bled. He tried not to think too often about it, but some nights the memory would return of the way his arms felt, his warmth, his lips and Harry'd smile.

There was always something to look forward to.

A/N: This was a weird idea that nagged me, so I ran with it and hope it isn't too awful. The writing handbooks always suggest to do your best, publish and move on. So here it is! I blame _Into the Woods_ , which is a strange musical. The title and quote (From _"I Know Things Now"_ )are the only references so you're not missing anything, but it's a bit amusing to imagine Harry as Little Red, Snape as the Wolf. Otherwise, I think I want the interpretation to be left open to the reader. For me, I think it's a little about the good things and bad things about being alive. I've also thought about the fact that Harry went from trying to murder Snape to holding him as he died, without knowing at that point that Snape was on their side. I think it speaks volumes to how Harry felt about him. (Remember, he hasn't seen the memories yet!) I'm curious on what other people think. Happy summer!


End file.
